Innocent Scribbles
by Peace Angel
Summary: A collection of DGM drabbles. 23rd drabble: "Bookman" - Even the Bookman gets old.
1. Sister Complex I

**Sister Complex I**

_She would throw her life away for him. He had already thrown his life away for her._

I never asked to be saved. I never asked you to make such a sacrifice for me. But you did it anyway. You left behind the world, your freedom, your happiness, to be with me, to hold my hand, in this dark prison.

And I was happy.

Does that make me a selfish person, Nii-san?

I would do anything to give you all the happiness in the world, even if I had to pay with my own life.

Because, without you, I would have no life to give.

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Author's notes: Well, it's been a while since I've ever done any writing and I have never attempted drabbles, so forgive the amateur-ness.

Anyway, this drabble (and the next) states the obvious but I do like Komui and Lenalee's relationship and so I thought I'd explore a little into each of their perspectives.


	2. Sister Complex II

**Sister Complex II**

_She would throw her life away for him. He had already thrown his life away for her._

Even though I burnt the food and knotted the stitches in your clothing, you would always smile and laugh, all full of innocence and warmth. You were the light of my world. You were all I had. You were my reason for living.

And when _they_ came for you, all of that vanished and the world was dark.

But when I finally found you, you were tied down, your beautiful hair tangled and unkept, your arms wrapped in bandages, the trail of tears staining your pale cheeks.

Yet, through all the pain, you still smiled and my world was suddenly bright again.

The sacrifices made it worth it, just to see your smiling face. Just to see you happy.

If I were to lose that again, I don't know if I would be able to escape the darkness a second time.

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Author's notes: The second installment of this two-parter drabble. I hope I conveyed the right emotions…


	3. The Trouble with Homophones

**The Trouble with Homophones**

…_Especially when they concern names._

"Hey, Lavi?"

"Hm?"

"I just thought of something. Remember when we were in Krory's castle, getting eaten by those flowers?"

"How could I forget? I've still got the teethmarks. See?"

"When you were shouting, 'I love you', are you sure you were talking to the flowers?"

Pause. Then, "What do you mean?"

"Well, 'you' as in the flowers or 'Yuu' as in, well, Kanda?"

Silence again. Then, "What were _you_ saying, Allen?"

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Author's notes: I'm not usually into anything shounen-ai, but if ideas could dance around naked and wave around signs bearing the words, "Write me!", this one did. Plus, this was sort of written in the middle of the night, when I was struggling to study for my microbio exam (and at that point, I can't claim to be 100 percent sane).

Oh and for those of you who don't remember your grade school grammar, homophones are words that sound alike but have different meanings :)


	4. Charcoal Lines

**Charcoal Lines**

_There's__ a reason why Tiedoll doesn't draw portraits._

"Daisya, hold still."

"I've already been sitting here for hours already. It got old pretty fast, you know. Why don't you try drawing Kanda instead?"

Tiedoll sighed as he tore off yet another sheet from his sketchbook, yet another page bearing the dusty charcoal lines of a youthful - albeit bored – face. On a fresh sheet, Tiedoll held the stick of charcoal just a fraction of an inch off the paper, his eyes peering closely into his student's face from behind his dirty spectacles.

"I tried drawing Kanda but he has such a sour face all the time…"

Tiedoll paused and picked up the last scrap of paper he had thrown away. Daisya's sketched face looked back at him, the lines of charcoal forming his young face, his disgruntled and annoyed expression, the way his chin leaned on his hand, the fingers of his other hand tapping his knee impatiently. Yet this was not Daisya. At least, it was not all of him, for Tiedoll was certain that there was more to this boy than this.

There was the Daisya who used his Charity Bell to break his glasses. There was the Daisya who, somehow, found new ways to destroy his paintings. Then there was the Daisya who enjoyed kicking around a ball, the one who longed to go back to the days of becoming a soccer star, as well as the Daisya who longed to see his family once more (although Tiedoll was sure the boy would never admit to it). And then there was the Daisya who looked towards something more – an exciting, yet dark, blood-stained, and unpredictable, future.

Such a simple charcoal drawing could not show this all, no matter how much Tiedoll tried.

"Daisya, how does one capture the essence of one's soul on something as simple as paper?"

Daisya rolled his eyes. "Quit the philosophical mumbo-jumbo, old geezer, and finish this. 'Capturing a soul', my ass! It's impossible. Only the Earl of Millennium does that and it's not on something as stupid as paper."

Silence. Then:

"Maybe I'll stick to painting scenery."

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Author's notes: Thanks for the encouraging reviews, everyone! They're all very much appreciated (and make me feel like I'm not such an awful writer after all XD)

I'm going away for the weekend so no updates until about Sunday night/Monday, so I thought I'd post a slightly longer drabble than the last


	5. Bandages

**Bandages**

_Bandages can only do so much_.

I am a nurse.

So when the children chosen by God return to us from a long, long battle of a war that never seems to end, I clean their wounds, wrap their bodies in fresh bandages, feed them all the right food, fluff their pillows, and I think to myself that I have done some good in the world – that I have fulfilled my duties.

But when one of these children begins to cry, heaving sobs interrupting her cracking voice as she laments the cruel fate bestowed upon her by God, the distant sounds of war filtering through the blockaded door, crying out for her own and other's suffering, all I can do is offer a hug and a pair of old shoes.

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Author's notes: I like the head nurse of the Black Order HQ. Then again, being a nursing student, I'm a little biased, ne? Still, I really identified with that one scene - knowing your job is to help people but knowing that all the bandages and medicines in the world can't solve all problems.


	6. The Sound of Tears Falling

Author's notes: I normally put this at the end of every chapter, but this is a warning that this is **slightly spoiler-ish for chapter 155 and 156**! You are warned!

Anyway, after reading said chapters, I've decided I like NoisexMiranda and it's a couple I have yet to really see around here (not that I've fully explored all the DGM fics…) But I have to say, I'm quite terrible at romance and I don't know much about Noise Marie so beware of bad writing ahead…

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**The Sound of Tears Falling**

_Miranda can't forgive herself_.

Noise Marie took pride in his ability to hear everything from the distant sounds of battle to the miniscule sounds of a quickly beating heart nearby.

And because he has had to endure so many battles and all their casualties, he knows the sound of falling tears when he hears it. It's soft and difficult to hear amidst the crying and shouting, but it doesn't make it any less filled with pain, so, just after the Black Order's victory, when Noise hears this sound right next to his ear, it is quite distinct and only barely muffled by held-back sobs of grief and guilt.

"Miranda…You can release it now. You've done enough."

Her hands shake from the strain of holding her Time Record and her body is slumped over from exhaustion, but still, Noise can hear the tears sliding down her cheeks before finally falling from her chin and onto the pile of rubble and ash below. He touches her hands and gently pushes them down.

"No!" she cries out, her eyes squeezing shut, not wanting to see the death and destruction around her should she cease her Time Record. "No…I-I can't…everyone…everyone will…and it'll all be my fault…"

Her words have turned to mutterings now.

Noise waits a few moments for the sound of Miranda's ragged breaths to slow and become regular once more before speaking. "Miranda, I can hear many things. There is shouting and crying and I can hear the medical team bringing the stretchers and medicine carts. But Miranda, even though I can hear all these things and more, I can't hear anyone blaming you except yourself. So stop. It's all right."

Noise stops speaking as he realizes the sound of Miranda's tears falling has stopped, not so much because she wanted to but because she has finally collapsed from exhaustion, grief, and guilt, as if there is an unbearably heavy weight on her shoulders. Noise lifts her limp form from the ground, carrying her in his arms, knowing that she hadn't heard anything he had said.


	7. How the Panda Got His Spots

**How the Panda Got His Spots**

_Why Bookman's eye markings never go away._

"…And then the duck turned around and – eh?"

Lavi stopped his story short and gave Bookman's shoulder a good poke. No response. The old man was asleep, his head tilted back a little, resting on the train seat's headrest. '_What good is a Bookman if he can't even stay awake to record a good story?_' he wondered in annoyance. But then a brilliant idea came to him.

Lavi rummaged around in his traveling bag until he found his inkpot and brush. He had only gotten as far as pulling off the inkpot's cap when both items disappeared from his hands. Blinking, Lavi looked up.

"I'll take these," Bookman said calmly, though Lavi could tell the man was irritated by his tell-tale eyebrow twitch (it was easier to see if you focused on the old man's forehead wrinkles, Lavi had learned over the years).

Within a few minutes, Bookman was asleep once more, Lavi's ink bottle and brush stowed away safely within the folds of his coat.

Bored with the scenery outside the window, Lavi decided to take a walk around the train.

That is, until he came across a little girl happily drawing random squiggly lines ('It's a dog!' she exclaimed proudly) on a blank sheet of paper with a thick black marker. Lavi put on his most charming smile, crouched down, and whispered, "Hey, hey! Do you want to see a panda?"

About fifteen minutes later, Lavi finished colouring the circles around Bookman's eyes, laughing quietly to himself as he finally capped the marker with a snap, the little girl standing next to him, watching with widened eyes and sucking her thumb.

"See? A panda!"

When the little girl giggled, Bookman's eyes fluttered open, only to see his successor grinning widely before him, holding the girl's mother's compact mirror in front of his face. There was silence, save for an odd grinding sound coming from Bookman's clenched jaw. Then…

"LAVI, YOU IDIOT! THAT'S PERMANENT INK!"

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Author's Notes: I know permanent ink comes off with time…but this idea was too fun to pass up! And thank you to all of you who review - I appreciate every single one :)


	8. The Art of Substitution

**The Art of Substitution**

_Tyki finds out the hard way how difficult Road's exams are._

Road sighed and leaned back in her chair, tipping it back so that her feet were propped up on the edge of the table, her chair balancing precariously on its back two legs. Spread out on the table's surface, just in front of her shoes, was a pile of books and scattered papers with scribbled notes and doodles resembling pumpkins and, oddly, a face with a star over its left brow.

Next to her sat Tyki, his hat resting by his elbow as he played a quiet game of solitaire.

"Tyki."

"Hm?" came the reply.

"Write my exam for me tomorrow."

Tyki's brow furrowed, and his eyes slid from his game to his sister. "What? Why would I want to do something like that?"

Road thought to herself for a moment before grinning widely, saying, "Because we're family?"

Tyki felt ready to allow his forehead to hit the table in front of him as Road played the family card on him, but the thought of ruining his so-far perfect solitaire game stopped him. Instead, he grimaced.

"Well, it would be a bit hard to write your exam for you, wouldn't it?" he asked. "You and I look nothing alike. Your teacher would notice."

Road's grin widened.

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The next day, as the professor strode between the desks, watching for any signs of cheating or trickery that students were so prone to during exam time, the space where Road Kamelot was to sit caught his eye. Road had the same odd hair and clothes, although she seemed to have gone through some strange overnight growth spurt, causing her clothes to look too small. Either that, or someone had seriously messed up her laundry. Additionally, her face looked a little more masculine. How strange.

Meanwhile, it was all Tyki could do to sit still in Road's small clothes at her little desk, scribbling down nonsensical answers on the paper, while keeping the wig properly atop his head.

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Author's notes: Finally a drabble featuring the Noah! Out of them all, Road and Tyki are my favourites, and as I was studying for exams myself, the idea for this drabble came to mind (whenever I get frustrated with studying, I tell the nearest person (usually one of my housemates) to write my exam for me so I won't have to study, and in return, said housemate can earn my love XD) And now that I'm finished my exams, I decided to post this to "celebrate"!


	9. 50 Names Ago

**Fifty**** Names Ago**

_Lavi knows the importance of names._

"How many times do I have to tell you? Don't call me by my first name!"

Lavi grins his usual goofy grin, his arms crossed good-naturedly behind his head as the grumpy-as-ever swordsman stalks off, presumably for the solitude of his own room. But beneath the laughing façade, Lavi wonders why Kanda would choose so freely to leave his given name behind. Still, no matter what, Lavi wishes that he can ensure Kanda will never forget the name his parents bestowed upon him.

Because fifty names ago, Lavi, future Bookman, shunned his own name and now he cannot remember it.

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Author's Notes: I managed to make this a true drabble – it's _exactly_ 100 words (not including the title and the "summary sentence" in Italics). Go me!


	10. 8 Simple Rules

**8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Sister** (or "Sister Complex III")

_Oh yes, Komui has rules._

1. All dates shall be accompanied by Bookman and Timcanpy for recording purposes. I will review said records immediately after while you wait in the Order's dungeons. Release will be granted only when I am satisfied with your conduct. (And, no, I don't care if either Bookman or Allen object.)

2. No matter how long it takes, you will wait patiently and quietly for Lenalee to get ready. Bored? Clean my desk. Alphabetical order, please!

3. "Strike! (heart)" is not a pick-up line.

4. The only person allowed to drink Lenalee's special coffee is me. No exceptions.

5. Anyone who has had any contact or has come under the influence of General Cross Marian is expressly forbidden from touching Lenalee (that lecherous drunken buffoon…) If you _are_ General Cross Marian, you are not allowed within a 50-foot radius of Lenalee – also, please report immediately to my office so I may restrain you and chain you to my desk.

6. Rule #5 is a lie. No matter who you are, you are expressly forbidden from touching Lenalee.

7. You are to return Lenalee to HQ by 7pm. Upon returning, you are required to report to me in the torture…I mean…interrogation room.

8. Last but not least: you make Lenalee cry, I make you cry. I have drills.

By order of Komui Lee, supervisor of the Black Order HQ, any breaking of the above rules will result in punishment from Komurin V. Compliance of these rules earns you a reward courtesy of Komurin V.

Thank you for your time.

Signed,  
Komui Lee

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Author's Notes: Rules 2 and 8 were taken from the original 8 Simple Rules and modified a little to suit dear Komui-nii-san XD But basically, you're screwed either way, whether or not you follow the rules…


	11. Forgotten Mothers

**Forgotten Mothers**

It's not often that she visits the little chapel they have at headquarters. After all she's been through and after all that's happened, she doesn't really feel religious enough to be there.

So Allen is surprised to see her, sitting in one of the front-most pews, just in front of the table holding dozens of flickering candles, some of them lit and others dead, just sitting and watching and apparently not doing much else. The chapel is silent save for the nun sweeping some dust off the floor and the air is heavy with the scent of burning incense, and Allen thinks it's quite peaceful and wonders why they don't visit more often.

He steps inside and the nun gives him a cursory glance but quickly goes back to her humble task, so he takes it as a sign that he's allowed as long as he doesn't cause trouble. He makes his footsteps just loud enough to be heard but not too loud so that they disturb the peace, and when Lenalee turns to see who is approaching, she smiles a little and makes a bit of room beside her on the wooden pew.

The two sit for a while in silence, the _swish, swish, swish_ of the nun's broom over stone floor the only sound in the otherwise empty room, the candles and incense calming. Just as Allen begins to get uncomfortable, Lenalee speaks up.

"According to Komui-nii-san, it's our mother's birthday today," she says quietly. "When I was a little girl, I decided I would light a candle for her every year, even though I barely knew her, but I figured it might make her happy if she's able to see it."

Allen isn't sure how to respond to this. He looks into Lenalee's face for a clue, but even he can't make out what she's feeling, so he answers with a question: "Do you remember her?"

Lenalee's face changes slightly, and the corners of her mouth turn upwards into a semblance of a sad smile. "No. I was too young to remember when my parents were killed. But Komui-nii-san remembers. He used to tell me stories about her and he would tell me that she was kind and beautiful and made great food, and that I look a lot like her." She sighs. "Allen-kun, do you remember your mother?"

Allen thinks back to his own childhood, but he can only remember Mana. Then he thinks about how he could have known his own parents and how they might still be alive now, although he has no real way of knowing for sure and he doubts if he ever will. And he thinks about how he was abandoned by his own mother for his arm, for his Innocence, and he wonders if it had been difficult for her to do so – if there was even a little bit of love for him in her heart – and if anyone had to tear him away from her arms in order for her to let go. Or perhaps it was she who did not want him, willingly rejecting him and throwing him out into the cruel, cold world, not caring if his cries went unheard or if he had died that same night.

But because he does not wish to burden Lenalee any more, he simply answers, "No. I don't."

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Author's Note: I wanted to touch on the theme of mothers for Mother's Day, but this ended up being pretty depressing, didn't it? I didn't really mean it to but it sort of…happened. But then again, if you think about it, pretty much everyone's mothers in DGM aren't around so it was bound to be a bit depressing, I think. Ah well. Er...happy mother's day?


	12. Lifeline

**Lifeline**

_The lotus is the only thing that gives him the strength to keep fighting._

His vision was growing fuzzy and dark. His body would not move according to his will. Everything felt heavy. There was a quickly cooling warmth over his abdomen – without looking at it, he knew there was blood and lots of it. It was an all-too familiar feeling. He felt faint, about to collapse at any moment, the enemy still standing before him, ready to gloat over his victory.

This couldn't be the end…right?

After all, there was still time. He wouldn't die. He couldn't. Not now. Not all the petals had fallen from the lotus blossom in his room.

But as his vision became cloudier and cloudier, he wondered if he depended far too much on the flower that knew nothing of the world except for its glass prison.

What if it was wrong?

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Author's Notes: This was just a really random thought that occurred to me in the middle of the night. But, yeah, I've been thinking a lot about life lately and how short it is that no one should take it for granted because you never really know when it'll all be over. As a result, I think Kanda is most in danger when it comes to taking his own life for granted.

As a random side note, this drabble collection almost reached 3000 hits from the last chapter! This is far, far more than what any of my other fics have earned...


	13. Personal Hygiene

**Personal Hygiene**

_The importance of keeping clean…even if you're unconscious_.

"Hey, Yuu…"

"Don't call me by my first name."

Lavi ignored him. "Do you smell something weird?"

"It's probably that bean sprout's bed again," Kanda remarked impatiently, cracking open one eye from his meditative position on the infirmary bed. "If he keeps hiding all that garbage and food under there, of course it'll smell."

The red-head cautiously sniffed the bed beside him and then said, "Nope, it smells but it's not the smell I'm smelling. It's different."

Across the room, Noise Marie cleared his throat. "I believe it's, uh, coming from Krory's bed…" Marie then proceeded to point to his left, where Krory lay, still unconscious.

"Ah! Nurse-san! Nurse-san!" Lavi exclaimed, waving his hands frantically in the air. The head nurse, noticing, set down the pile of clean bed sheets she was putting away, and hurried over, her face lined in worry. "Nurse-san! When was the last time Kro-chan had a bath? He smells!"

The head nurse sighed, half-relieved and half-annoyed that the situation was not serious, and reluctantly went to the vampire's bedside.

"It's been three days," she answered shortly. "We've been overwhelmed with all the casualties and since Krory-san is unconscious, there has been no one to bathe him."

"But he smelllllssss!"

The nurse remained silent for a moment as she gathered some towels and a basin in her arms. "Well, if you're so concerned about Krory-san's personal hygiene, then you can be the one to help me give him a bed bath."

Kanda, despite his (futile) attempts at serious meditation, smirked.

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Author's notes: I couldn't help this one because, as a nursing student, I've had to give _many_ bed baths to all sorts of people XD And, really, no one thinks of the implications of being unconscious and bed-bound, like maintaining personal hygiene (and other, more serious, conditions like pressure ulcers, muscular atrophy, and DVT…but those aren't really funny…) so I thought I'd poke fun at it a little! Poor Lavi…


	14. Shoulds and Shouldn'ts

**Shoulds and Shouldn'ts**

_There are __things in this world you should and shouldn't do. No one knows that better than General Cross Marian._

General Cross Marian knows there are many things he should do – like quitting smoking, cutting back on the alcohol, or not taking advantage of beautiful, rich women (no matter how much they threw themselves at him).

But the word "should" is the key word in all these cases because "should" does not mean he _has_ to and he therefore has a choice in the matter. And because all three of these things are so much fun, he chooses to do them anyway. You only live once, right? Or so he reasoned. Some of those mystics in India would probably argue otherwise.

In any case, he really _should_ find out what ever happened to that idiot apprentice of his, he thinks as he sips idly at his wine, doing his best to ignore that idiot man in the tavern, shouting something about promoting good parenting skills, blaming bad parenting for all the current evils in the world. Cross had meant to go looking for his idiot apprentice the day before, but he had felt much too hung over to go through the trouble of searching. The kid would be all right…right? He had always come back from his jobs perhaps a little dirty and scraped up, but alive and with money.

Suddenly, the shouting man in the tavern pops up beside him, almost as if he possessed some weird teleportation ability, and he points at Cross, shouting, "Do you know where _your_ kids are?"

Cross rolls his eyes. "I told you last night, NO!"

Just minutes later, as Cross runs from an angry horde of the shouting, teleporting man's supporters, he thinks he probably shouldn't have thrown his glass of wine at the man's head.

It was such a waste of good wine, after all.

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Author's notes: Ok, so the joke in this one was a bit weak (I swear, it was funnier in my head!), but it was inspired by _The Simpsons_, specifically from the episode where Bart works at the burlesque house, and I can't ignore _The Simpsons_ XD

And again, thank you to all of you who take the time to review! Each and every review is appreciated and loved XD


	15. It's Raining

**It's Raining**

_Anita hates the rain._

It's raining.

As the mourners who are more guests than anything else scurry around, attempting to find umbrellas to keep their fine clothes from becoming ruined, a young dark-haired girl can only watch from the sidelines, holding out her hand to catch the falling droplets of moisture in her open palm, allowing them to make little pools that would eventually merge together to form one larger one in the centre if she stood like that long enough.

It's raining. Her mother likes the rain.

The young girl's hand falls to her side. _No_, she thinks, mentally correcting herself. _Mother _liked_ the rain_. _Before she died_. Now, her mother was but a pile of ashes in a ceramic urn.

She looks to her side and realizes that there's only one other person who isn't scurrying to find an umbrella under the sudden downpour. She knows him well.

It's raining. And it's obvious that this young man likes the rain, just as her mother did.

But she has to correct herself yet again. It was the other way around: her mother liked the rain, just as he did. Because, really, her mother only liked the rain _because_ he did; and because she had thought him so handsome and noble and courageous, she had died for his cause while he still lived.

"It's raining," she said to the young man with the wild red hair and the long black coat. "You'll catch a cold if you stand here much longer like this. Mother wouldn't want you to get sick."

The Exorcist looks at her, his gaze somewhat sad but also somewhat curious. He takes a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, despite the fact that he's standing in the rain, and says, "I like the rain, Anita. But I loved your mother more."

It's raining. And she hates the rain, she thinks to herself as it hides the tears falling down her cheeks, because she hates the man who likes the rain and for whom her mother died.

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Author's notes: I meant this to take place at or after Anita's mother's funeral, so I made sure to mention the "mourners" but I'm not sure if I made the funeral part clear, heh…Anyway, after watching that anime episode with the flashback of Anita and Cross shortly after her mother's death, I do think that Anita would harbour some bitterness towards Cross at first, but then soften as time went on, so I thought I'd explore the bitter feelings a bit more.


	16. Similarities of the Heart

**Similarities of the Heart**

_Although they're human, their hearts are different__._

Why was it so difficult to fight her? To kill her?

Because she was obviously more powerful than he was? No, that wasn't it. He had faced many opponents before, overriding that innate instinct to run, to flee from death itself.

No, it was something else, he admitted to himself. That memory, that sensation, of her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed her body close, so close that he could feel the steady, rhythmical beat of her heart, the soft whisper of her breath on his ear. And because he has only experienced a few of such embraces in his fifteen years of living, he has learned to memorize the feeling, locking it away safely in his heart to remember always. As a result, he knows it well.

It is the embrace of a human, her beating heart just the same as his – just as human as his.

But just as the crosses on her forehead are only simplified versions of the ornate silver symbol he wears on his coat, her heart - her supposedly human heart - is only a simplified version of a true heart.

Because, as he sees the cunningly hidden bloodlust glitter in her eyes despite her outwardly innocent appearance, he knows that her true Heart – the very essence of the human spirit – is corrupted.


	17. Pigtails are Cuter

**Pigtails are Cuter**

_Lavi rearranges Kanda's hair_.

Honestly, why did he have to be stuck on a mission with _him_ of all people? It was almost as bad as being with that bean sprout. In fact, sitting on the train with nothing to do but listen to that idiot blather on and on about random stories he had come across with Bookman was nothing short of torture, and it was all he could do to sit still, his arms crossed, his eyes closed, and his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to ignore the sound of Lavi's voice.

It wasn't long before he opened his eyes due to an odd tugging feeling in his hair. Had he fallen asleep?

Kanda's eyes turned to look to his side, and before anything could be done, he whipped out Mugen from its sheath by his side, its point just an inch from Lavi's face.

"Hey, you're awake!" Lavi said, laughing nervously, both hands held up, as if to proclaim his innocence.

Kanda simply glared down at his partner, Mugen still raised. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Lavi responded simply by holding up a mirror. Kanda risked taking his eyes off Lavi to stare at his reflection, and instead of his wonderful ponytail…he had pigtails.

"Ah, well, I miss seeing Lenalee's pigtails," Lavi explained hurriedly. "And since you're the only one with long hair now, I thought I'd change your hair to look more like hers. Pigtails are cuter, anyway, don't you think?"

And so, Lavi took the opportunity to run for his life as Kanda stared in shock at his reflection in the mirror.

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Author's notes: I do rather miss Lenalee's long hair and since Kanda really is the only one with long enough hair to make pigtails now, who better to redo his hair than Lavi? XD


	18. Scientific Method

**Scientific Method**

_Reever puts the science department's funds to good use: finding out why Komui likes Lenalee's coffee only._

Problem: Supervisor Komui Lee has, in the past, refused to drink any coffee that was not made by his younger sister, Lenalee Lee, even if it meant going into severe withdrawl. However, Miss Lee's coffee seems no different from that made by any other person. We propose to answer the question: What makes Miss Lee's coffee so special to Mr. Lee?

Experiment: We propose to carefully observe the journey of the coffee tray from the kitchen to the Mr. Lee's office every day for a week. In 24-hour blocks of time, four cups of coffee made by Miss Lee and four cups of coffee made by Reever Wenhamm will be brought to Mr. Lee. Of the four cups of coffee made by Miss Lee, two will be brought by Miss Lee herself and the other two will be brought by Mr. Wenhamm. On a similar note, of the four cups made by Mr. Wenhamm, two will be brought by Mr. Wenhamm himself and the other two by Lenalee. We shall carefully observe Mr. Lee's reaction to each cup of coffee.

Hypothesis: Mr. Lee will accept coffee from only Miss Lee's hand, but will enjoy the coffee made by Miss Lee, no matter who delivered it to him.

Observations: Preparation of the coffee was made similarly by Miss Lee and Mr. Wenhamm. No significant differences were observed. The journey from the kitchen to Mr. Lee's office was uneventful and rather boring. When the coffee arrived at Mr. Lee's office, he refused to drink any coffee that was delivered by Mr. Wenhamm but warmly accepted coffee delivered by Miss Lee. After tasting the coffee, he disliked the coffee delivered by Mr. Wenhamm and shows gushing love and joy when drinking the coffee delivered by Miss Lee.

Conclusions: The secret ingredient is love.

Sources of error:

- Accurate measurements of the cream and sugar used in the coffee were impossible to take in order to ensure secrecy.  
- Half of the research team was forced to go on sick leave when they were nearly killed by Komurin X2 in their attempts to sneak into Mr. Lee's office.  
- The research team questions Mr. Lee's sanity.

The research team also acknowledges the fact that love is not technically an ingredient, but is simply a curious part of human nature (so-called "emotions") caused by increased levels of hormones and signals in the human body. However, the team could not find a more viable explanation and is therefore holding fast to their conclusion.

Funding kindly provided by the Black Order via the Vatican.

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Author's notes: I think my friend in microbiology would butcher me for this. I haven't performed a science experiment in over two whole years so my memory of how to make one and write up a report is sketchy at best! Anyway, I thought I'd give the Order's science department a nice experiment to do. After all, they seem to have enough time to make weird potions so why not make up weird experiments, too? XD

Anyway, I have to admit: I'm running out of ideas. I know, I know..."Already?!" but I seriously am. So if any of you have some ideas or suggestions or words to jump off of, please feel free to offer!


	19. Father

Author's Notes: I usually put these at the bottom, but this is more of a **SPOILER ALERT!!**

I don't think it's overly spoiler-ish, but if the words "THE MUSICIAN" don't mean anything to you, then you may want to skip this chapter.

If it does make sense to you or if spoilers don't bother you too much, then please go ahead and enjoy!

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**Father**

The snow falls lightly, clean and pure, from a darkened sky, but the two travelers find warmth in both the fire and each other, underneath a carefully constructed, albeit shabby, overhanging tarp. The young one, only a boy, huddles beneath a blanket, while the older, taller man pokes at the makeshift fire with a stick.

The young boy tosses and turns, doing his best to ignore the cold, hard ground beneath him and the sharp, biting wind above, and the man has only to glance at the boy, a soft questioning look in his eyes.

"I can't sleep, Tou-san," the young boy murmurs.

A strange look passes over the man's face like a phantom shadow –an almost pitiful mix of half a sad smile and half a grimace. "You know I'm not your real father, Allen. I've told you that many times before." Because, he thinks silently to himself, he doesn't want the boy to make such assumptions, for the only bond they share is that of tentative familial love spun by fate alone.

The young boy clutches at his blanket – worn and patched – and pulls it up further so it covers all but his large, sad eyes. "I know. But I can still call you Tou-san, can't I, Mana? Since my real father isn't here, then you can replace him," he says carefully, not wanting to upset the only important person to him in the world, his voice slightly muffled by the blanket.

Mana shifts his way closer to the child, stroking the boy's head softly and tucking the edges of the blanket underneath his small form. "Do as you wish. Now try to sleep. We'll be reaching the next town by tomorrow."

The young child closes his eyes, his smile hidden by the folds of the patchwork blanket. "Sing me our song, Tou-san?"

And so, under the dark sky and the lightly falling snow, an abandoned man and an abandoned boy lay beneath a tottering shelter, their only comfort in a simple fire and a simple lullaby that only they would know.

'_And then the boy drifted off to sleep,  
Breathing heavy the flames within the ash.  
One by one, welling up in that beloved face,  
Thousands of dreams upon this earth,  
As your silver eyes tremble.  
On that night, a shining "you" is born.  
Hundreds of millions of months and years,  
No matter how many prayers are returned to the earth,  
I shall continue to pray.  
Please, give this child love,  
Joined hands, and a kiss.'_

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Author's Notes (again): The song lyrics were taken from chapter 135, page 11 (scanlation by MangaShare). The sentence structuring was a little odd (meaning, there weren't many places where it was obvious the sentence was ending and another was beginning) so I edited it so that it – hopefully – makes sense.


	20. Destroyer of Time

**Destroyer of Time**

_Miranda knew long before that Allen was destined to surpass them all._

She didn't know what a Destroyer of Time was, but the way the higher-ups talked about it, she knew somehow that they were referring to Allen and that it was very important. Allen himself, however, didn't seem to pay much attention to this title. He simply kept smiling as he always did.

She glanced at her Time Record on her wrist. Most would say her Innocence's power was an incredible and highly useful ability, but it could only temporarily halt the flow of time. But if Allen was the Destroyer of Time, whatever ability he had would surely obliterate the likes of her own.

Then again, ever since she had met him and seen him fight with the solid determination in his eyes, she had known that he would surpass them all.

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Author's notes: Still stuck on ideas but I found this one lurking on my harddrive. I wrote it a while ago but was never happy with it. Somehow, I don't think I wrote this properly and I think I scrapped and rewrote several versions of this drabble, but this was the one I was happiest with…Sorry if it doesn't feel as deep as some of the others...


	21. Walker

**Walker**

_Allen finds his name darkly ironic._

The surname "Walker" is fairly common in Britain and, compared to his cursed eye or blessed arm, it raises no eyebrows or draws odd looks from strangers. Consequently, Allen never thought twice of the name he inherited from Mana.

But as his fate unravels before him, leading to dark and unknown places, he finds the name "Walker" rather ironic.

Because, no matter what and for the sake of his loved ones' happiness, he must keep walking down the path God has chosen for him. He knows it'll be difficult, but with his own two feet, he will reach the end.

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Author's notes: I'm getting good at this 100-word thing because, yes, this is also exactly 100 words XD

Anyway, this idea isn't terribly original (see DGM chapter 182) but I do rather like the irony in Allen's name – it's so common yet so full of meaning (great job, Hoshino-sensei!!) – so I couldn't pass up the chance to write _something_ about it, even it was just a meaningless drabble…

Lastly, this drabble is dedicated to my uncle, who passed away on July 4, 2008, after a short battle with cancer. Although he was in a lot of pain, he never lost his sense of humour and his kindness for all. Rest in peace, Uncle Bert.


	22. Just Meditating

"**Just Meditating"**

_Komui wonders why Lenalee has taken to visiting Kanda's room._

"Nii-san! We're just meditating, so please, stop spying on me!"

She turned quickly on her heel and slammed the door behind her, leaving Komui in silence as he sat at his desk, tapping the end of his pen on the desk's paper-covered surface. The door opened once more and Komui's pen stopped tapping.

"What was that all about? Lenalee looked a bit peeved," Reever asked, allowing himself inside the supervisor's office.

Komui stared hard at Reever through his spectacles and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk, his fingers intertwined in deep thought. "Reever…you're younger than me, aren't you? So you'd know how kids these days talk, right?"

Reever raised an eyebrow and looked at his boss quizzically, as if he'd finally cracked. "What are you talking about, supervisor?"

A strange glint entered Komui's eyes as he replied, "Lenalee has been spending a lot of time in Kanda's room recently. They _have_ to be up to something."

"Uh…supervisor, where are you going with this?"

"'MEDITATING' IS THE NEW WORD FOR 'HAVING SEX', ISN'T IT?! Ahh, my sweet, innocent Lenalee-chaaaan! Just thinking about that long-haired idiot touching her…!"

Reever stood in silence, his face twitching slightly. "Supervisor, I think Kanda is the last person…"

"Reever! I want you to halt all current projects in the science division and conduct research on all the euphemisms used by today's teenagers," Komui declared, the glint in his eye growing stronger. "I expect a full report on my desk by tomorrow morning!"

Reever sighed. Well, there was always the next day to sleep, wasn't there?

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir…"

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Author's notes: Ah, another random drabble. I got this idea when one of my online friends, who's a few years younger than I am, used a word I never heard used in a certain context before, and so she directed me to the online urban dictionary to figure out what she meant. It was then that I felt outdated and old…even though I'm only (almost) 20…Sigh...


	23. Bookman

**Bookman**

_Even the Bookman must eventually grow old._

The elderly man sat in his heavily cushioned chair, dozing, his small form hunched over and leaning a little forward, his almost-bald head tilted a bit to the side. His room was sparsely decorated but the bookcase was crammed with books and scrolls, a little desk to the side nearly covered in piles of paper and ink bottles.

The door cracked open and a younger man peeked in. Seeing that the elderly man was sleeping, he crept in, taking care to make sure the door didn't slam behind him. The old door, however, seemed to be creaky, and the sound woke up the man in the chair.

The young man grinned and greeted his senior, crouching down so he could look him in the eye.

"Hey, Panda, haven't you slept enough already?"

The elderly man grimaced as he attempted to straighten himself in his chair. His legs and arms were so shaky, however, that the younger man took him under the arm and pulled him up until he was settled once more.

"What panda? Where?" the elderly man asked finally.

"You. You're the panda."

The elderly man shook his head. "I'm not a panda, but I remember a young brat who used to call me that."

The younger man laughed a little. "Really? Who was that?"

There was silence for a few moments as the elderly man tried to remember, brow furrowed in concentration. The younger man waited patiently, remembering sadly how sharp the old man's memory used to be – a memory that could recall books and books of information, centuries and centuries of history.

"I don't remember his name, but he was a brat for sure – always causing trouble, he was. I haven't seen him in a while, though," the elderly man said, smiling a little. He then squinted at the younger man in front of him. "What's your name?"

The younger man looked stricken for a moment before he composed himself again and replied, "Bookman."

"That's an odd name."

The young man laughed again, running one hand through his unruly red hair. "Well, it used to be _your_ name, remember?"

But already, the elderly man had begun to doze again. The younger man sighed a little, took the wool blanket from atop the bed, and tucked it neatly over his mentor's lap before quietly taking his leave.

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Author's notes: Well, I'm working at a nursing home this summer so that's partly where the inspiration for this drabble came from. My own grandmother is having memory troubles, as well, but they aren't severe yet. It really is hard for both the elderly and their loved ones when things like this happen, but we are all human and these things happen and we must deal with them as they come.

As always, thank you all for the kind reviews. And, as always, I'm open to suggestions for drabble ideas XD

Also, random question: I know Suman Dark had a daughter. Does anybody remember what her name is/was?


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